


Your Body Looks Good Tonight

by viewfromthe34thfloor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viewfromthe34thfloor/pseuds/viewfromthe34thfloor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people that Scott expected to be waiting for him in his house that night, Allison was very bottom of the list. Set after the end of season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Body Looks Good Tonight

Scott knows that there’s someone in his house as soon as he opens the front door. His first thought is for his mother, and a million nightmare scenarios play fast-forward through his mind. If anything happens to her - if anything else happens to her - because of him… His thoughts trail off. She’s been through enough. But he knows or maybe he remembers that she’s working tonight, that there’s no car on the driveway, and that means that whoever’s in the house, they’re alone. That comforts him for  a split second before he takes a breath and he notices that Allison’s scent is here, and it’s far stronger than it should be, because she hasn’t been here in… Well, months.

Because she broke up with him.

And that was fine, y’know? Because Allison had her reasons, and she’d just lost her mom, and Scott had heard the truth in her voice when she’d said that she was sorry. He believed her. He has to believe her. So that he could keep telling himself that this was only temporary, that it was a blip that they’d look back at some day and laugh about. What was the alternative? Accepting that Allison was better off without him? That she’d be better - stronger, safer, more if he just walked away? He couldn’t do it. Okay; it was selfish and horrible and wrong but fuck, he was a teenage boy and a werewolf and Allison had been his anchor - and  the idea of never getting to touch her again, not seeing her body right there in front of him - having to live the rest of his miserable life replaying the same few memories of her over and over and over again? Well that _sucked._

None of that mattered now. Scott would recognise Allison’s scent anywhere, no matter how long it’d been; it was base notes of vanilla and the mustiness of old books and a faint tang of acetone, of nail polish remover. It was here, leading through his house, stronger in places where she’d lingered, and Scott felt like it was a trail, a series of beacons which were drawing him forward, closer, _home._ His eyes were hooded and he could have closed them completely and still found her, her scent growing stronger with each step, until he’s half-way up the stairs and he realises that he can hear her too, her staccato heartbeat calling out to him, demanding that he answer her.

Knowing that she’s here doesn’t explain why she’s here though, and Scott’s confused, or at least, he is until he listens, really listens, and he hears more than just Allison’s heartbeat. He hears the jump in her breathing, the slide of limbs on cotton - bedsheets? Then he picks up on something even more base in Allison’s scent and it hits him all at once; it’s the way that Allison smelt when he pressed her into the bed and slid his hands under her clothes and over her waist, the scent of arousal when he nipped and licked at the space between her neck and collarbones and drove her to distraction. The reason why she’s here doesn’t matter so much anymore, because Scott’s standing outside his bedroom and he knows, not even through his werewolf senses, just through the unbreakable connection to Allison - that she’s waiting for him, in his bed.

Walking into his room is like sitting down at a feast when you haven’t eaten in days, because Allison’s scent has permeated into everything and it’s been so long since he could see her and smell her at the same time. It’s enough to have his claws appear, and Scott can’t help the grumble which builds in the back of his throat when he realises that Allison’s wearing one of his t-shirts. He takes a faltering half step forward and realises the reason for her choice. She’s not wearing his t-shirt. She’s wearing his unwashed lacrosse jersey and that’s even worse because her scent’s combined with his, and Scott feels his heart accelerate to an impossibly fast rhythm. In his head, it’s back to that first lacrosse practise when he felt her eyes on him the entire time, when it gave him an additional satisfaction - more than just testing his werewolf skills - to show off in front of her. Allison has always made him feel like he has something to prove.

But not tonight. Not tonight, because she’s here and she’s come to him and it takes a hell of a lot of self control for Scott not to pinch himself, because there’s a part of him which is still doubting what she’s here at all. Even when he hovers at the edge of the bed and she looks up at him with shining eyes and pulls the comforter back to let him crawl into the space between her arms, he pauses. Her slow blink is an invitation, and she’s looking up at him through feathered eyelashes until he’s laid beside her, and the final millimeters between them feels like no man’s land.

“Allison.” He breathes the word so lightly that no one without altered senses should have been able to hear him, but maybe she feels her name on her skin because she meets his eyes now, shaking her head and pressing her index finger to his lips. She silences him, in every way. It’s the first contact that they’ve had in… months, and even if nothing else happens, even if Scott passes out right now he feels like he’ll remember that sensation for the rest of his life. The way her fingertip is grazing the soft dip between his top lip and nose, the deliberateness of it, it’s almost overwhelming. So much so, that when she removes it he almost grabs her wrist to stop her moving away, before he realises that her lips are coming down to meet his, exactly where her hand had been mere moments before. Allison’s hair is a curtain of curls and when their mouths meet, the first touch is like a question, hesitant and unsure. The second is a confirmation. The third? The third is Allison’s lips dragging across his and her tongue teasing at the bow of his mouth and Scott suddenly remembers that he has hands, that he can reach for her and hold her close. When he does, the slide of his palms on her skin is a promise; _I will not let go. Never again._

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Our Most Brilliant Friends by Slow Club.


End file.
